


Rules of the Hunt

by alba17



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-07
Updated: 2010-06-07
Packaged: 2017-10-09 23:34:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/92796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alba17/pseuds/alba17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Gwen play a game of pursuit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rules of the Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> Betas: thraceadams and kelreiley  
> Written as a merlin_santa gift for thedreamygirl, who asked for Arthur/Gwen fic.   
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is a work of fan fiction, written just for fun.

  
Rule #1: The Quest: seek out the prey

The sounds of the marketplace rose and fell around him, vendors hawking their wares and customers haggling over prices in a boisterous clamour and din.

"Crisp, juicy apples here!"

Chickens squawked and pigs grunted. Children yelled and ran under their mothers' feet, stealing titbits from a stall.

"Freshest fish in town!"

Arthur took a deep breath, inhaling all the varied aromas of his domain: the smoky mouth-watering scent of meat frying and the sweet spice of mulled cider, the musky odour of dozens of unwashed bodies milling together, all mixing into a heady brew that was like the essence of life itself. This was his, this was what he was bound to protect, and he'd give his life so his people could continue their basic human pursuits.

He pulled the blue cloak closer and nestled his face into the depths of the hood. He had more immediate concerns to take care of. For the moment, he hid in the shadows of an alley leading into the open space of the marketplace, tucked away yet close enough to have a good view. His gaze moved restlessly over the crowd. There was Gawain, sitting on a bale of hay, sipping cider and flirting shamelessly with Pola, the baker's daughter, who, it had to be said, filled out her bodice nicely. And wasn't that Alun looking at knives and chatting idly with the knifemaker? If Arthur wasn't mistaken, he was supposed to be leading a training session right now on the fields south of the castle. Arthur made a mental note to assign him an extra hour or two of mace practice this week.

He wasn't surprised to see Merlin stooping to pick up a pile of cabbages he had just knocked over, tripping over his own feet in the process, much to the disgust of the farmer who was energetically berating him and threatening him with a scythe. It was a miracle that Merlin managed to get through a single day with all limbs intact. Arthur had certainly been tempted to lop off an arm or two when particularly aggravated with his bumbling manservant.

But none of these were the object of his search. There…just behind Merlin's cabbages. He caught just a glimpse of her deep purple cloak before she disappeared into the crowd, head held high and capped with a wide-brimmed black hat that hid half her face. He stepped out into the market, face shadowed by the hood.

Rule #2: Assembly – gather, eat and agree on the best method of conducting the hunt 

Arthur stealthily crept through the market, keeping to the edges as much as possible, eyes steadily on his prey. There she was again, walking past the stall filled with skeins of wool, dark curls gathered at the nape of her neck, then spreading out in a spill down her back. Her stride was confident and strong, legs clad in rust brown breeches and tall black boots that clung to her calves. He retreated quickly, hiding behind a display of apples. She stopped at a stall brimming with piles of pears and said something to the farmer, who laughed. She ducked her head under the wide brim, and grinned, one side of her mouth curving up, a suggestion of embarrassment. It was a look of unbearable sweetness, and Arthur felt a delicate fluttering in his chest, like wings rising in flight.

The farmer handed her some pears, which she tucked into her rucksack, keeping one out to eat. She looked around the market before biting into the fruit, and Arthur retreated further behind the apple stall lest she see him. The juice ran down her chin as she bit into the pear. Arthur smiled. Holding her hand up to her chin to catch the juices, she delicately licked her lips and he stared, transfixed. Taking another bite, her lips closed on the pear's surface, sliding across its frail green skin before she sank her white teeth into the pale flesh within. Arthur suddenly felt quite warm in his cloak; he opened up the front to give himself some air.

He grabbed an apple from the stall, promising himself he'd pay the farmer later. He watched her open her mouth to take another bite, glimpsing her tongue pink and glistening between her lips. This time her bite was more delicate, the teeth just toying with the pear, nibbling.

_Teasing his nipple, just a hint of a tug between her teeth before her lips closed on the sensitive nub, and he arched his whole body into it, groaning. _

The memory came to him, clear enough to make him hard with sudden longing. He funnelled his want single-mindedly into his goal, eyes intent on the prize, as he watched the everyday, yet somehow extraordinary act of his love eating a pear.

He could hear the farmer saying good bye to Gwen. "Good day, young fellow." She nodded and turned, munching on the fruit, and continued on into the market. Arthur followed, devouring his apple as he went.

Rule #3: Relays: when the path of the hart had been predicted, relays of dogs were positioned along it. This way the dogs were not worn out before the hart.

Suddenly a sharp elbow shoved into his side, causing him to drop his apple into the dirt, as a bunch of small glass vials clattered onto the ground next to him, spilling out of a black cloth bag.

"Watch what you're doing!" Arthur hissed. He swung around to see who it was.

_Merlin_. Of course. Apparently he had escaped the scythe-wielding farmer. A small cabbage leaf stuck out of his hair.

"Sorry…" Merlin's hands scrabbled on the ground, trying to sweep the vials back into the bag. He looked up and realized he'd bumped into his master. "Arthur! What are you doing?" giving a nod to the long cloak and hood that concealed Arthur's identity.

"Not now!" Arthur whispered urgently to his servant. "Sssshhh!" He put his finger to his lips. "I'm following someone and I'm trying to be discreet." He looked around and pulled the hood to cover his face more.

"Oh. _Someone_. Discreet. You?"

"Yes, _Merlin_. Me. Now run along." He made a shooing gesture.

"Who is it and why are you following them?" Merlin crossed his arms with a decidedly suspicious air. More importantly, he looked like he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

"Look, it doesn't matter and it's none of your business. Don't you have some piles of produce to knock over or something?" Arthur flicked the cabbage leaf out of Merlin's hair. "I'm trying to be incognito here."

"Hmph." Merlin didn't move.

"Did you just hmph me? Come on, I'm sure there's a dress somewhere you'd like to steal. I see a tailor right over there, he's got some lovely blue gowns. Go on." Arthur made as if he was going to kick Merlin's legs and Merlin danced backward, losing his balance and falling onto his back into the dirt, arms flailing, just barely missing a pile of folded cloths on a nearby bench and dropping his bag of vials once again.

Arthur stood there looking down at him, laughing loudly despite his desire to remain anonymous, as Merlin got up, slapping at his clothes to get the dirt off them and quickly gathering the vials into the bag - again.

"All right, all right," Merlin said, holding his hands up, palms towards Arthur in a gesture of surrender. "You win. Keep your secrets." He looked over to the tailor's stall. "But, really, don't you think I'd look better in one of those green gowns, rather than the blue?"

Arthur made a threatening gesture with his fist. "Go!"

For once, Merlin did as he was told, and turned to go, still wiping dirt off his behind.

"Wait!" Arthur called, and Merlin hesitated, turning back. "Two things. First, I prefer the blue dress - it matches your eyes. Second, have you seen a boy with a black hat and a purple cloak?"

Merlin frowned at Arthur suspiciously. No, he hadn't seen a boy like that. He opened his mouth as if to ask more questions, but Arthur purposefully glowered at him, and he finally ran off. Not before stopping at the tailor's stall, however, and fingering a blue gown with apparent interest, flicking impish eyes at Arthur. Arthur raised a menacing eyebrow and Merlin scampered off with a mischievous smile on his face.

Rule #4: Chase - This was the hunt proper; the hounds had to be kept on the trail of the deer.

Arthur shook his head of Merlin's foolishness and focused his attention back on the task. Skirting the edges of the market, he moved along, peering through the crowd, wondering where Gwen had got to next.

He was approaching the castle now and the market was thinning out, although the crowd was still bustling. His eyes darted from one stall to the next, alert for the telltale purple of her cloak.

There she was, lingering by a leather goods stall, looking at the bags and belts. He crept up to the neighbouring stall and peeked around it. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she compared the various goods on offer. Her fine, delicate fingers stroked the leather of various shades of brown and tan, tracing the decorative designs embossed on some of the items, the tip of her finger moving slowly along the patterns, feeling the smooth texture of the leather.

_Her fingernail trailed along the ridge of his spine, up the back of his neck and into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp; her fingers clutched and pulled and he gasped in pleasure as he sank into her._

Arthur felt a flush creep up his neck at the memory and he glanced back at her face, now in animated discussion with the leather maker, asking him questions. He admired the slope of her cheek, and the pout of her lip as she spoke, the sparkle in her dark eyes. As she gestured, her cloak opened, revealing the lean lines of her attire, her waist cinched by a thick belt over her rough red tunic, the close-fitting breeches clearly showing the pleasing flare of her hips. To the observant, the curve of her breasts was obvious in the slight billow of her tunic over her chest.

_His palm enveloped the soft satin of her breast as he bent to take her nipple into his mouth, circling the tip with his tongue and then sucking, as she moaned and writhed._

Arthur's breath hitched and he pulled the neck of the cloak open to give himself some more air. He watched Gwen's hips shift, cocking out the cloak in a provocative manner as her eyes glinted to the side, stealing a glance at him, wherever he was. Hiding somewhere nearby, she knew. His gaze travelled down from the belt resting on her hips, following the line of her breeches clinging to the sweet curve of her thighs before tightening around her knees and disappearing under the black leather of her high boots.

_Supple tan skin slid under his fingers cupping her knee, then skimming up the long, gentle slope of the inside of her thigh, at first just a thin covering over bone, a delicate stretch, then gradually growing more padded, his fingertips sinking slightly into the pillowy sleekness of the inside of her upper thigh before smoothing over the fine dark curls where her legs met. Her hips canted upward, urging his tongue forward into the pink folds and recesses, and she shuddered as his mouth closed on her._

He was feeling dazed, and the cloak was getting downright hot. But he couldn't take it off yet.

Soon.

Gwen leaned over the leather maker's table to peer at something more closely, sneaking a look around as she did so, again missing Arthur lurking nearby. Yet everything she did, every movement, betrayed her awareness of his presence. She pushed the cloak to the side so her rear end and legs were exposed, pushed out brazenly for all to see, because no one thinks a thing about a boy's behind poking out like that. (Except maybe Merlin, that idiot, but that was another story and Arthur brushed aside the thought for the moment.)

Arthur leaned back on his heels in deep appreciation of the sight before him, Gwen's lovely arse reminiscent of the pear she'd just eaten, all rolling curves and globes exactly shaped to fit Arthur's hands. He could imagine his hands on her now, grasping her hips and pulling her into him, pressing her boy's trousers into his crotch.

Gwen moved her legs, shifting her weight from right to left, and his cock twitched in response to the movement of her arse from side to side, the fabric of the breeches stretching tight over the cleft of her behind and clinging to the curve of her arse as it flattened out into the back of her thigh. He longed to slide his hand _right there_, between her legs, to feel the nubby texture of the cloth, the ridge of the seam where it pressed up into her, to rub it up into the wet warmth…The back of his head hit the post of the stall he was crouching next to with a bump that brought him back into awareness of his surroundings before he lost it completely.

Gwen stood up and gave the leather maker some money in exchange for a brown belt embossed with a swirling design, like waves. It reminded Arthur of her hair, all its lovely ringlets and curls, falling to her shoulders.

_Her hair, normally tidily pulled back as befitted a respectable woman, was loose, wantonly teasing and sweeping, making tiny little touches as she licked her way down his chest. It curtained his hips and thighs, like a gossamer blanket of silk, as her tongue swiped slowly over the under side of his cock._

Gwen tucked the belt into her rucksack and started in the direction of the castle proper. Arthur moved out from his hiding position at the stall next door and stood there, waiting. Gwen turned to look, as he knew she would, her purple cloak swinging, a tendril of hair coming loose from its bounds and falling in her face. Their eyes met and Arthur's opened wide at the sudden impact of her velvety brown gaze. A bolt of desire ran through him, like Cupid's arrow meeting its mark, and the sounds of the marketplace fell away. For a moment, it was just them, blue eyes meeting brown, and her lips parted as she started to turn towards him, like a magnet drawn inexorably towards true north. Then she remembered her role and swung back in the other direction again, sneaking a small smile at him before dragging her eyes away from his and turning on the heel of her boot towards the castle entrance.

Rule #5: Baying - When the deer could no longer run, it would turn round and try to defend itself.  
The hounds would be kept back, and the most important man in the hunting party would make the kill, with a sword or spear.

Arthur pulled the hood down once again, ducking his head into its folds and losing himself in the crowd ambling through the castle entrance. He kept close to the thick stone wall, trying as best he could to look small and inconspicuous, a challenge for someone who normally tried to take up as much space as possible. A flicker of purple rounding the corner ahead was enough to give him the scent of his prey again. He quickly turned the corner close on her heels, and saw her scurrying into a hallway, the step of her heavy boots echoing off the cold, hard surfaces.

She made room for two knights coming down the hallway from the other direction, standing aside to let them pass and tucking her head down in a gesture of humility that also hid her features. Arthur retreated swiftly into an alcove, making sure the hood covered his face. When he re-emerged after they had passed, Gwen had reached the end of the hallway well ahead of him and chanced a look back before turning into another hallway. She grinned when she saw him coming after her, and quickened her stride, disappearing from sight.

He rounded the corner, moving quickly, practically aching with a need that increased with every step.

The hallway was empty and silent. A number of doors lead into rooms off the hallway. All were closed. He tried the first one on the right. It was locked. He tried the next one on the same side. The door opened onto a man sitting at a table reading. Arthur mumbled some apology and quickly closed the door.

On the opposite side of the hallway, the first door was unlocked, but when Arthur opened it, there was a chambermaid sitting in the lap of one of his knights, giggling and screeching in high-pitched tones as the knight reached under her skirts. Her cap was askew, golden curls falling every which way as her mouth fell open, head arched back as she laughed. The knight's face was turned to the girl and all Arthur could see was his back bent over her torso and the back of his head, short brown hair matted and sweaty. He must have come directly from drills. Arthur quickly retreated.

_Dear God, where was she?_ He felt like he was on fire, adrenaline surging as it did when he suddenly spied the enemy from the crest of a hill.

The last doorway in the hallway led to a storage room. He burst through the door and there she was, sitting on a barrel, the purple cloak spread underneath her and her legs splayed wide and wanton in her boy's breeches, black boots planted firmly on the storeroom floor. He stopped in the doorway, heart beating wildly, stunned by the sudden sight of her. Gwen grinned at him, chin high, seemingly cool and unflustered, but her colour was high. Her mouth widened into a genuine smile when she saw the expression on his face and she spread her legs just a bit more. As the door closed behind him with a defining thud, Arthur took a step towards her. The taunt went out of her eyes, her smile slackened as her lips parted in anticipation, her breath coming more quickly, her chest visibly rising and falling.

Arthur swept the hood back from his head, exposing his slightly mussed blond hair and the flush on his cheeks. The cool air of the storeroom on his neck was a relief from the warmth and closeness of the market crowd and the heated memories that had come upon him during the chase. The room was dim, lit only by a narrow window high in the wall, and dust motes floated in the one slanting beam of sunlight that angled through the thin opening.

"You're getting slow in your old age," Gwen said reproachfully.

"Oh really?" Arthur arched an eyebrow.

He took a couple more steps towards her, swaggering and kicking up dust and hay from the hard floor. The room smelled of old burlap and rust, and a trace of the lavender-scented soap that Gwen used. He could see her pulse beating in the shallow dip of her neck, the skin smooth and delicate there, the colour of warm toffee.

"I'll have you know that I easily won last month's tourney. The best challenger was nowhere near as good as me, even though he was five years my junior," Arthur said, eyeing the line of Gwen's breeches along the inside of her thighs.

"Are you sure Merlin didn't help you out with that?" Gwen snorted, eyes darting down Arthur's body and back up to his face.

Arthur looked disdainful. "What are you talking about? He can barely keep my armour clean."

"Oh, nothing." Gwen's face shut up tight.

"I always win on my own merit, as you should well know." Arthur came right up to her and took off the black hat that shadowed her face, tossing it on the floor.

"You know, boys are supposed to take off their hats in the presence of their elders," he said.

"Is that right?" Gwen shifted her crotch forward on her perch, looking up at Arthur flirtatiously.

"Yes, that's right. In fact, I think a little kneeling might not be inappropriate at this juncture," Arthur stood right in front of her and brazenly pushed his hips forward.

Gwen lifted an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon, sire?"

"Well, I'm just saying, here at Camelot we normally try to encourage humility towards our superiors. Most young men would be flattered to find themselves in your position." Arthur reached out a hand to touch her hair, wavy and lustrous, gleaming in the half-light of the storeroom. His hand glided down, just barely touching it, until his palm cupped her face. "Your highness."

He felt giddy with love for her, still, this maidservant who he'd made his queen despite all the obstacles. She had proved her detractors wrong by becoming the strong, brave, and intelligent partner he knew she would be when he'd fallen under her spell all those years ago.

He looked deep into her dark eyes as he held her face, thumb caressing her chin, chest flooded with emotion. He leaned forward until his lips gently pressed against hers.

"I'd think you'd want to take full advantage of this opportunity," he murmured, pulling back for a moment.

"Oh, is that what you expect of most young men in Camelot?" Gwen said softly, looking up at him, dazed from the kiss. "That they're willing to drop to their knees and service you at the drop of the hat?"

"Just as good a way as any to show your appreciation of your king, wouldn't you say?"

"I'd say they'd have to be insane not to beg for such a chance." Gwen grabbed Arthur's arse and pulled him toward her with a jerk. "Sire." Her hands dug into his firm arse and she curled her thumbs around his hipbones. "But they'll have to wait until his queen has her way with him first."

She bent to mouth his erection through his trousers, lips pursing along the hard ridge swelling the cloth, moving purposefully along its full length while kneading the broad muscles of his behind with her fingers. Arthur couldn't help but push against her mouth, the slight pressure of her lips a delightfully frustrating tease after such a long wait.

A moan escaped his lips unbidden as Gwen pulled him harder into her face and he slid his hands into her hair, causing the binding to come loose. His fingers swept through the loose dark ringlets, the strands curling around his fingers as he gripped them desperately. "Gwen. The things you do to me."

She scrabbled frantically at the laces of his trousers, pulling them open with uncharacteristic lack of grace, until his swollen cock burst from its casing. Her gaze lingered for a moment on its prodigious presence, red and demanding, yet silken to the touch as her fingertips grazed its length. Arthur shivered at the contact, grateful for the intimate warmth of skin on skin (finally!), and his hands fell heavily to her narrow shoulders. She continued teasing with her fingers, head resting against his lower abdomen, lips just centimetres away, until he could stand it no more.

"All you young boys are such cockteases," he said with a quirk to his lips, "all talk and no action." He pushed her face into his erection and she smirked against it.

"Is that what you call foreplay? Sire? I think you'd better refine your approach if you want to win over an innocent young lad like myself," she drawled, flicking saucy wide eyes up at him before swiping her tongue up his cock and swirling it around the head and over the wet tip. His knees quivered as if he'd just spent hours doing hand-to-hand combat drills and he leaned into her slightly for support. Then she took the entire head into her mouth, lips closing on it and sliding down with a pressure that turned his legs completely into jelly.

She held his hips firmly as her mouth and tongue brought him closer and closer, creating a welter of sensations that blocked out everything else. He was no longer aware of the dusty smell of the room, of the light beaming through the narrow window, or the squeak of the barrel Gwen sat on as it shifted with her movements. All he was conscious of was the wet press of her lips, the slow heat of her tongue, the sweet pull of her mouth as he surged into it, wanting more of that impossibly hot moist suction.

He pushed into her mouth with particular force, and Gwen moaned, or possibly gagged slightly, and suddenly Arthur didn't want to come in her mouth, into those delicious lips that he loved to kiss as often as possible. He needed to be inside her, really inside her, for them to be together as they really were, joined as equal partners. He wanted to feel her lips on his, to look into the dark pools of her eyes as he slid into her, slow and deep.  
He pushed away, pulling out of her mouth, and she looked up at him questioningly.

"Not like that," he said softly, hands cupping her face. He pulled her up and kissed her on the mouth, those lips that were just wrapped around his cock, pink and swollen with use. The thought made him press into her passionately, ravishing her mouth with molten kisses. She undid the clasp of his cloak and it fell to the floor in a puddle of blue as they embraced, arms tight around each other, lips melding together in the dim light of the musty storeroom.

He could feel her hips roll against his, his cock stiff against her soft belly and he was overcome with the need to be inside her now. His fingers desperately worked on the fastenings of her trousers, finally freeing them and his hand plunged down below her waistband. She clung to his shoulders as an exploratory finger slipped between her legs, through the curly down and into the softness below. _God, she was wet. _

He felt an intense coil of heat low in his abdomen, surging up through his cock, wet with pre-come and Gwen's saliva, and all he could feel was the smooth skin of her neck beneath his tongue and the secret moistness under his fingers. Gwen's eyes closed as the tip of his finger slipped through the slick warmth. She suddenly shuddered with a sharp intake of breath and he knew that was the spot. He pressed there gently, making small circles with the tip of his finger until her entire body tensed with the pleasure, her mouth falling open and her weight slackening in his strong arms.

"Arthur," she murmured, hand tightening on his waist, breath panting with her growing excitement.

He kissed her again, open-mouthed and wanting, tasting her fully, then pushed her trousers down to her boots. He slowly caressed the length of her thighs before laying her down on his cloak. For a moment, he took in the sight of her, the black leather boots up to her knees, the trousers bunched up around them, the smooth line of her taut legs as they fell wide in wanton welcome. She looked up at him with lowered eyelids, drowsy with arousal, her hair spread wildly on the dusty floor, and he felt dizzy with lust for her, his queen, his love.

He pushed his own breeches down further and lowered himself on her, careful not to press his whole weight on her, her body small under his broad chest. His hand roved over her, the small hillock of her breast, the tiny span of her ribcage, the curve of her hip. She quivered as his fingers grazed her inner thigh and their eyes met. He dipped once again into the pink wetness between her legs, a few small caresses as his erection rubbed against the delicate skin of her upper thigh. She palmed his cock, up and down, and it was all he could do not to come immediately.

He slowly entered her, eyes locked on her face, watching her expression of rapt concentration. Then he had to close his eyes tight as he slipped further into the moist warmth of her, groaning at how good it felt. Her arms tightened their embrace, and she welcomed him with a sigh and an upward thrust of the hips, and he felt the hard heels of her boots scrape on his legs as she dug them into his calves. She felt so hot, soft yet clinging, surrounding him with sublime pleasure, so good, and he pushed all the way into her. She arched her back into it, and he thrust in again as she angled her hips so he could hit her just right, and they both moaned loudly when he slid in again. _So perfect._

After all this time, he knew exactly what she liked and when - her face was contorted in pleasure, mouth panting, a few tendrils of hair sticking to her damp forehead, and he knew he could let go now. He braced his arms on the ground and fucked her with abandon, in and out, a steady rhythm that hit her perfectly, he could see it in her face, could hear it in the sounds of pleasure she made, the keening that was a sure sign she was close to orgasm. He could smell her arousal, the wetness around his cock seeping out of her so they were both wet and messy, and it all made him want her even more.

Her nails were digging into his back - he could feel the tension building in her limbs, and he was so close...then she was shuddering, suddenly silent and still, he could feel the pulsing deep inside her, and just the ecstatic look on her face was enough to tip him over and he spilled into her, coming in waves.

They clung to each other, bodies tacky and sticking, and Arthur had never felt closer to her, as he laid his head on her breast and threaded his fingers through her hair now lightly coated with dust from the floor. His head rose and fell with her breathing and her hand lay lightly on the nape of his neck. Just for these brief moments, he wasn't the king and she wasn't the queen, but they were just themselves, Arthur and Gwen, playing like they were carefree youngsters.

Rule #6: Curée - Lastly, the hounds were rewarded with pieces of the deer or other prey.

Before they left the room, Gwen picked up her hat and stuck it on Arthur's head.

"There. I think it suits you much more than me." She looked at him, considering. "Have you ever thought of growing a beard? Now that you're a big important king and all." She looked at him again, imagining it. "Naw." She smoothed her hand over his jaw and gave him affectionate peck on the cheek. "Best keep the clean-shaven look. Wouldn't want to cover up that lovely face."

Arthur rolled his eyes as he silently ditched his plans to experiment with not shaving.

_   
**Merlin Fic: Rules of the Hunt**   
_


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